Shadowed Serpent
by Short-Stuff Serpent
Summary: A lone figure sat in his cell at the heart of Azkaban, a small smirk upon his lips. This will be a dark superpower Harry.
1. Prologue

Shadowed Serpent

_**Shadowed Serpent**_

**Prologue**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters you recognise in this story. Nor do I own any of the places you recognise. People that have read this story before will notice that this chapter has been repaired. There's no other word for it really, Hopefully it is better now.

Note: This fanfic is dedicated to my wonderful, fantastic, friend Maddy.

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A lone figure sat in his cell at the heart of Azkaban, a small smirk upon his lips. Long midnight, black, hair, caked in dirt and a small amount of blood rested upon his middle back. His figure was not what one would expect from anyone that had spent six long years in a high security cell, in one of the most feared places in the whole of magical Britain.

He was not like most. Most of the inmates resembled nothing more than skeletons with skin stretched over their gaunt pathetic frames. No, he was well fed, lean and relatively healthy.

For the first year he had sat in that thrice dammed cell. Wasting away, lost in depression. It had not taken long however for that depression to lead to anger, then hate. A cold, dead fury resting in his heart. Demanding to be free and to reap bloody vengeance upon those who wronged him.

He had started training as much as one could in a very small cell, he could practice very little magic as his wand had been snapped and his very limited amount of wandless power could only be accessed when he was feeling very strong emotions.

He could however do push ups, sit ups, and any other up he could think of. His stamina was sorely lacking however as he couldn't exactly go running and star jumps could only do so much.

He had also found that dementors spoke parseltongue. It had taken a lot of persuasion on his part to make them help him, and their temporary alliance was shaky at best. He had, had to promise them a hell of a lot to. They had set a few tasks for him to perform for when he escaped. There was no doubt he would escape the question was when. And so, thanks to the cold-hearted daemons, he ate fairly large meals and enough fluid to sustain him.

They even brought him books on magic! Books containing the darkest of dark magic and the purest magic he had ever heard of. Books on necromancy, the power over life and death itself. Nerochanneling, which was the art of ,quite literally, stealing some ones soul and turning it into arcane energy. And the other most interesting one, golemising. This was very interesting

Apparently Azkaban was an old castle, its owner (Count Azkaban) had been a "dark" wizard, was assassinated and had his properties seized all by the ministry. They had not however managed to enter the lower chambers which contained his bedroom, training room, library and a few other non important ones. The count had evidently been a quite determined scholar as he had been given a new book everyday for the past 5 years.

Well originally he had been given a new book every week but he had found a "dark" potion that gave him photographic memory and was able to memorise books very quickly. It did unfortunately come with drawbacks. It was labelled dark for a reason; he had to give a sacrifice, His both his arms up to the elbow. His arms could not be repaired so he had the dementors buy him a prosthetic one. Which although could not compete to the real ones, were pretty dam cool. They was jet black which (as it was magical) could be moved like a real one but with extra strength and blades out the knuckles which could be extracted at a thought (imagine wolverine out of X-men). These were silver. Useful against werewolves, he thought in passing.

The down side obviously was that he would never be able to feel through his hands. They also drained his magic to power them so in the event of magical exhaustion he would lose the ability to extract the claws or use the extra strength.

He had also long ago lost his illusions on light and dark. Labels are not meant for magic or living creatures. A simple first year levitation charm could throw an innocent man off a cliff whilst the 'unforgivable' killing curse could be used to end some ones suffering. Magic was not dark or light it was the intention of the caster.

For example he had used a dark ritual to give himself photographic memory which would help him take down the dark side...and the light side. Hmm. Well never let it be said that six years in Azkaban could ruin a persons humour. Warp it slightly but it was still there non-the less.

He had improved mentally, magically and physically. And he was ready to screw over the world. Avada emerald eyes glowed slightly as he though of the hell they would pay when he was finally 'released'.

Harry Potter would have his vengeance!

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**Read and review please! I just want to know if I should bother continuing or not. Do you like it, love it, hate it? Constructive criticism gratefully accepted! Flames are not.**


	2. Chapter 1 A Weasles Musings

Shadowed Serpent

_**Shadowed Serpent**_

**Chapter One**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any characters you recognise in this story. Nor do I own any of the places you recognise.

**Authors Note.** Yes I know it's hardly a speed record for updating. To be honest I hated this story after I wrote it. But I've got a load of ideas I want to get rid of so I'm taking this up again.

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Ron Weasly was happy, nay, Ron Weasly was ecstatic. For 4 long years he had been walking in Harry bloody Potters shadow. He snarled as his mind began to remember every injustice caused by Potter.

First year: Down the trap door, he heroically sacrifices himself so that Snape (Later revealed to be you know who himself) could be defeated but no, no one cares about that because harry potter can grab someone's face.

Second year: Harry and himself both went down into the chamber of secrets, it was just luck that he ended up on the wrong side of the avalanche.

Third year: It wasn't his fault that he was in hospital was Sirius was rescued. Mind you he was pretty grateful for it now, after the whole aiding an escaped convict thing.

Fourth year: His 'friend' tells him not to bother getting his name in and he believed him then guess what! He goes behind his back, gets into the tournament, still has the gall to lie to him about it. And for what? To kill become a prime ingredient in you-know-who's resurrection.

He didn't know what happened in the interrogation room but it was said that harry had turned violent and had attacked the aurors on guard and had had to be subdued. It certainly looked like it, he had come out bloody and beaten.

The aurors must have been bloody quick though, as neither of them had so much as a scratch on them.

He grinned. No one believed he had gotten violent but every one felt that he had deserved the beating and so every one had looked the other way. Less than he deserved of course, a simple beating was not nearly big enough a punishment for the years of being over shadowed by him but it was something.

Now it was his turn, his chance to get the glory. Being the ex-best friend of the boy-who-betrayed came with a lot of attention, reporters and class mates had turned to him instantly, wanting to know the inside scoop; and never one to disappoint he had told them. He had always prided himself in his ability to tell a good tale. Sure he had exaggerated in places, some of the 'illegal dark' curses Harry had been practising were more frowned upon rather than being illegal.

But who was he to deny the public what they wanted, a scapegoat. He may not be the sharpest tool in the box. He knew it was unlikely that Harry had been pushed far enough to do those crimes, but the fact was wizarding Britain needed this. Potter had become a liability. The light side had been split in two, those who hated harry and those who loved him. Until he was gone they would not be able to put up a united front against the dark.

Britain would feel secure that a traitor had been captured and punished, and they would finally be able to unite and defeat you-know-who. He knew he wasn't a genius bookworm like that traitor Granger but he was an excellent strategist; hopefully this could speed up the war and him and his family would remain safe.

His musings were cut short as an attractive pink haired girl collapsed on the couch next to him.

"Wotcha Ron. What's got you looking so deep?" Tonks asked with a playful grin.

He gave a sad smile back, "Just the usual, the war, Potter, the Black Guard."

The Black Guard were Voldermorts new 'weapon' seemingly fearless soldiers that appeared not to feel pain, misery, rage, guilt or any other of these sensations you would expect to find on the battle field. They were the best of the best each one capable of taking down a dozen or so aurors single handedly. They were immune to stunners and until Fudge authorises the use of killing curses, seemingly invincible.

Many claimed them to not be human at all but some sort of daemon or golem. They were a relatively new addition to the war and until one is taken down and studied it looked like it was going to remain speculation.

She sobered up instantly, "Not a great topic to be brooding on. Huh?"

"Yeah"

"Is it because its….?"

"Yeah."

It was Potters birthday, now a nation holiday; Hate day, it was called. He was quite possibly Britain's least favourite person. Second only to Voldemort, and even that was an argument waiting to happen.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts, I know it's hard but cheer up, Your first raid tomorrow. Excited?"

Recently a 'Junior' member of the OOTP he would be going on his first counter Death Eater raid. It was just a small attack; spies had revealed a force of about 2 or 3 D.E. were going to attack a minor light pure blood family. As it was his first he would be accompanied by and experience member along with the usually team. It would be him, Tonks, Moody and Coran. The orders were very specific, capture, interrogate obliviate, leave outside the ministry tied up and unconscious, and most of all don't get seen. No deaths and no trace that they had anything to do with it. As far as the ministry knew it was just a stream of unrelated, unorganised, loyal, vigilante groups helping the war effort.

"Of course, a little nervous as well." He replied with a small smile.

"You'll do just fine. See ya!" She walked away, probably to help finish co-ordinating the next raid.

When he was sure she was gone he started grinning again, tomorrow he would prove that he was an excellent fighter and Tonks would fall madly in love with him. After all, who doesn't love a hero?

Suddenly there was a crash from the hall and Snape staggered in panting heavily, hair wild and robes torn.

"HE'S ESCAPED!" He looked directly at Ron with crazed panicky eyes. He felt a cold fear fill his stomach.

"POTTERS ESCAPED!"

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Thanks to everyone for reviewing.

I promise to actually start writing this story, ill try and get a new chapter up every other week. Don't expect them to be that long though ive got my GCSE's this year and im aiming to get into Cambridge so I need REALLY high scores.

Please leave a review, its nice to know people are actually reading this.

_EDIT Thank you __Elfwyn for notifying me of the aurors / auroras mistake._


	3. Chapter 2 Dark Ones Beginnings

Shadowed Serpent

_Shadowed Serpent_

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters you recognise in this story. Nor do I own any of the places you recognise.

Note: This fanfic is dedicated to my wonderful, fantastic, friend Maddy.

An extract from 'The Mysteries of Magic' by Jonoleth Aetscm

_It is a common misconception that the only difference between muggles and magifolk is the absence/presence of a magical core. This is quite simply rubbish, a pathetic, dark age theory promoted by pureblood supremacists and general ignorance. Both muggles and magifolk have magical cores. Not only that but it is hypothetically possible for muggles to wield magic, not as easily as natural born magifolk but they could use it non the less._

_To understand this we need to look at what magic 'is'. Magic is life. Very simply, every thing that lives has a magical core. Some muggles call this their 'soul' (See 'Mingling with muggles', by Maddy Morgana) others have named it their spirit, life force, etc. Magifolk have a larger, magical core, which is the reason for their longer life expectancy (that and the various cures / potions unavailable to muggles) _

_In truth there are three main differences between magifolk and muggles. Magifolk have natural channels, which link their physical bodies to their magical core. Magifolk have larger magical core. The other main difference it access to the 'Arcane Library' more commonly referred to as the AL which will be discussed in later chapters._

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Harry lounged gracefully in his chair, feet up on a foot stool next to the fire. After 6 years in Azkaban this simple luxury was heaven. Sure he'd been given plenty food and books to read but no luxuries. I would be too easy for a human guard to see him on a comfy chair in his cell. Escaping was simple enough, the Dementors had simply opened the door with whatever power they had that enabled them to ignore trivial things, such as highly magically resistant, titanium bolts and locks. They had then led him to some generic secret entrance that brought him to the Counts personal chambers.

Idly he pondered his escape. Knowledgeable and physically strong he may be, he still had the magical strength of an infant. It would be some time before he could summon up enough power to return home. Apperating looked impossible due to the wards and a boat was out of the question. He'd be shot down if he tried to fly and besides he didn't have his broom anyway.

For all intents and purposes he was just as much a prisoner as he was an hour ago. The lodgings were pleasant enough though. However for some reason the Dementors had locked every room barring the chambers, library, privies and training room. Admittedly this was all he needed for the foreseeable future but curiosity demanded he know what was behind those locked doors.

He wouldn't force the issue though, aggravating ones rescuers was hardly and intelligent thing to do; especially when you take into account that his rescuers were incredibly powerful sub-daemons with a taste for human souls.

As if hearing his thoughts (which to be honest as quite possible) a Dementor glided into the room and stood there. Though it had no visible eyes he knew it was staring at him. He felt a chill run though his bones and misery started to seep in. They could turn this power off of course, warning its prey it was with a 10 mile radius would not be a particularly useful trait, however it was a sort of command. Though they could speak they preferred not to.

"Yes, yes, I'm getting up, relax." He muttered, half to himself, half to the Dementor. Pushing himself out of his chair he ambled toward the training room, the Dementors guiding the way. There he sat cross legged on the floor and began staring intently at a feather. The Dementor glided to a corner and simply floated there, staring at harry with non existent eyes.

For an hour or so nothing happened. One could almost assume he was merely studying it, his face gave him away however; it was screwed up in intense concentration. A thin sheen of sweat glittering on his face and low grunt every so often would have given any viewer the impression of a professional weight lifter going for gold.

Then, as if possessed the feather started twitching and shaking, seizing across the floor, and, it started to lift from the floor, hovering a foot or so in the air for a few seconds. Then, with a deep gasp from harry, it started floating back down.

Though all this the Dementor said and did nothing.

This had become a regular occurrence, three times a day he exercised his magic core. Without a wand he needed to become some what adept at wand less magic until he could get his own back. Actually scratch that, it had been broken at the trial, he would need a replacement. Wand less magic was taxing at best, most humans simply did not have wide enough magic channels to be able to easily cast spells. He was even worse off. Not casting magic for 6 years had left his channels shrivelled and thin, making it necessary to force the magic out, thus widening them.

It hurt like hell.

He needed his strength back though if he was going to topple both Voldemort and Dumbledore from their respective pedestals. Then, he would take over.

Why? It was quite simple really, he was bored. Bored of the pointing and the whispering, and the unjustified blame; It sickened him. Such a gift of magic and these pathetic wizards were squandering it. They were nothing more than children, playing with a game too advanced for their age.

He had been in the wizarding world for 10 years (though admittedly 6 of them were in prison) and he had seen very few appreciate their gifts. The only capable wizards and witches he had seen using their magic to their full potential were Albus Dumbledore, Lord Voldemort and Nicholas Flammel. It truly was unfortunate that when he was finished 2 of them would be dead and one already WAS dead.

But he would change it. He would throw the wizarding world into a new era, the golden age. He would revolutionise magic. Incorporate it with muggle technology to defeat the laws of science, to conquer death and reveal he mysteries of the universe. It would be a new dawn for magic kind.

His inner monologue was interrupted by a feeling of intense sorrow. With a jerk he stood up rapidly and turned himself to face the Dementor.

"_mmmore_"

He shivered. A Dementors voice was a horrible thing, a _cacophony of screams, wails, and pure, misery combined with than inhuman hiss of parsletounge. He hated them. He hated them because they scared him, after 6 years in a small cell vividly imagining your old friends and allies deaths with a nightly dose of seeing Voldemorts little torture sessions you tended to become a little resistant to fear._

_But these creatures. He was in their debt, and as it would be awhile before he would be able to complete his end of the bargain, he was going to be in little more than servitude for years to come. They were essential in his plans though so he would tolerate them and most likely vice versa._

_"Very well, dark one"_

_He sat cross legged again and repeated the practice; Always conscious of being watched._

_(Scene break)_

_It was several hours later that he collapsed on his four poster bed. Thoroughly exhausted it was an effort to keep his eyes open. Lying spread eagle on the crimson duvet he casually surveyed his chambers. Mostly blacks and various shades of grey, peppered here and there with brief bursts of red, silver and deep purples. It was gothic but considering his situation it seemed appropriate._

_Musing on his situation he began to think. There was no way he could destroy both Voldemort and Dumbledore on his own. He would need allies, and quite a few at that. Not just humans either, werewolves and vampires would be included too. Every magical creature that had been oppressed would rise up and throw off the shackles of these lords of light and darkness, to live in a world free of prejudice._

_Of course, they would only be 'free' to a certain extent. It wouldn't do to have a load of animals running around, de civilising his new utopia. They would be protected though, he would provide his own personal guards to keep them nice and safe._

_Obviously some would have to be sacrificed for wands and the like but it was for the greater good._

_He stopped in mid thought,. The greater good. It was that old fools phrase, the phrase that had dammed countless innocent lives for 'the bigger picture'. Was he just as bad as them? Was it not hypocritical to de throne them only to take up the mantle as malevolent dictator himself?_

_Such thoughts were too heavy for when one was fighting a losing battle against uncontiousness. So finally, with a deep yawn, he lay back and succumbed to sleep. _

_He dreamt._

___He found himself back in that thrice dammed courtroom. And he saw himself, un characteristicly calm and composed for a child in shackles._

___Up on the judges bench, a fierce man looked down, Harry was reminded of a lion on the prowl. He slammed down a gavel and all conversations ceased._

"_Mister Potter, you have been accused of the murder of Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. How do you plead?"_

_Harry saw himself look the new minister in the eye and briefly bared his teeth and gave a small primal growl._

"_Guilty"_

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Authors Note:

As promised, I have delivered this chapter within a fortnight. By the way for those who are wondering an extract from 'The Mysteries of Magic' will appear in every chapter from now on. Ill try and make it as specific o the chapter a possible but I can't guarantee anything.

You see im one of those geeks that has to pull every thing apart to see how it works. This is what ive done to magic and I need to write it down. Things like why the killing curse makes the statue head explode in goblet of fire but goes through clothes without a trace will feature in these extracts. As usual please read and review.

Sorry about the size of chapters by the way. Once ive reached about 50, 000 words ill merge them together to create a smaller amount of larger chapters.


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